


Over

by run_sure_footed



Series: Before Kipo [14]
Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Break Up, M/M, professional blackmail, so we're nearing the end, this is a few weeks pre-Kipo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_sure_footed/pseuds/run_sure_footed
Summary: I hate to break all your hearts, but I'm going to anyway.We have some Off and On stories to post that we ended up cutting from the main story. They're a fun read, but they didn't fit in once we were all done.And when that's done, I think we'll start posting fics from our UnderFroglets series!
Relationships: Harris/Jamack (Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts)
Series: Before Kipo [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878325
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	Over

_Over_

Jamack filed into Sartori’s office, doing his best to keep his appearance calm. It was always stressful to see the Boss, even when things were going well. She was not easily impressed. The opposite, in fact. She was very easily annoyed by the smallest details.

“Boss,” he greeted her.

“Jamack.” She gave him a long, assessing look, fingers steepled in front of her on her desk. She didn’t say anything further—Jamack was a talker, and she wanted to see what he would say if left to his own devices. Why _he_ thought she’d called him here.

Jamack squirmed internally, but managed to keep his hands still. He could practically feel the anxiety choking him. But as far as he knew, he couldn’t be in trouble. His last few jobs had gone very well, patrols were all normal. He began with that. “The last job we pulled in Humming Bomber territory went very well—we got away with only a few injured Frogs, no casualties. We met our goals.” They had been salvaging supplies from a broken-down hospital. Humming Bomber territory was a good place to get those things, as Humming Bombers had strange, clumsy feathery hands and tended not to do much in the way of doctoring.

“Very good.” She smiled at him. “You’re making your way up through the ranks quite nicely, aren’t you?”

It was true, Jamack hadn’t been content with being a soldier. He had scratched his way to the top, slowly, over more than a decade. He had command of younger Frogs now, which was a fair percentage of the Pond. He led them on raids and in battle, he made decisions for the Mod Frogs under his supervision. Part of his success was simply due to surviving as long as he had. Mod Frogs didn’t often live past their thirties.

Sartori’s second-in-command had been killed only a couple of weeks ago. She had been one of the older Frogs at the Pond, from the same year as Sartori. Suddenly it seemed clear what her intentions were with this meeting. She was trying to find a new second-in-command, and Jamack was somewhere on that list. He kept his face blank but his heartbeat was deafening.

“That is, despite your choice of companions.”

Jamack’s expression hardened slightly, but he nodded. Sartori had never approved of Harris. Kwat had proven herself useful as a soldier many times, but Harris—though he was an excellent fighter and had earned his place over and over—was aggressive and difficult to read. Many Frogs were unsettled by his expressions, by his giant red eyes.

Her smiled broadened. “Good. I see that you know what I’m referring to.” Truthfully, Sartori wasn’t sure exactly how close Jamack and Harris were, but they were _friends_ , and that was enough. “If I might make a suggestion—it would be to your advantage to think closely about who you associate with. If you want to _continue_ climbing through the ranks.” She gestured grandly. “Who knows? If you’re smart, maybe one day this office could be yours.”

The suggestion was everything Jamack had always wanted, had fought for most of his life. But Jamack had had this conversation several times before. Never with Sartori, but with instructors and older Mod Frogs who had wanted to be sure he knew that Harris was holding him back.

He had thought on it, plenty, and he’d come to the same conclusion each time—Harris made him…happy. It was a weakness, maybe it was even a bad decision for his future as a Mod Frog, but he wasn’t willing to give up his mate. Even if their rocky relationship would always be a shameful secret, it was worth it to Jamack.

But he wasn’t going to voice any of that. “Yes, of course. Thank you for the advice.”

Humming thoughtfully, Ms. Sartori tapped her fingertips on her desk. She gave Jamack another cool, assessing look. She was disappointed, but not surprised, by his reaction. “Dismissed.”

He turned on his heel and left, heart pounding in his chest. Did she know how close he really was with Harris? Did she know they were _more_ than colleagues? He hoped not.

*

“You wanted to see me, Boss?” Harris did his best to sound calm and relaxed even though he felt anything but. As far as he knew he hadn’t done anything—good or bad—to attract her attention recently, so he didn’t think he was going to be disciplined or rewarded. He had no idea _why_ she’d summoned him, and it was terrifying.

“Yes, Harris. Sit.”

Harris would have preferred to remain standing, but he could tell it was an order, not a suggestion.

She waited until he obeyed, then spoke to him almost offhandedly. “Jamack has been rising through the ranks. He’s going to be a powerful Frog soon enough, don’t you think?” she prompted him.

“Yes,” he agreed, swallowing nervously and hoping she wouldn’t notice. “He’s quite an asset.” He didn’t really know what he was saying or if it made sense.

“Yes. And don’t you think he would do better without carrying your weight?”

“I—” Whatever he’d been about to say—and he wasn’t entirely certain what it might have been—got cut off abruptly. He couldn’t breathe. So. Here they were. Finally. In a way, it was a relief. He’d spent so long, so many years of his life, dreading this moment, and now here he was, facing it. He had to fight back a hysterical giggle. Unable to find words, he could only nod and hope she’d accept it as a response. He still couldn’t breathe. It was almost over. It was a relief, but he had to survive the next ten minutes. No. That was too much. The next _two_. The next thirty seconds. And then the next after that, and however many it took until he could leave this room.

“I won’t disrupt your patrols.” They worked together fine, in the field. But Jamack’s behaviour towards Harris, his _affection_ , was unseemly. If he was going to continue to succeed, he’d need to shed that. “But I expect your relationship to remain entirely professional.”

Harris had run through this exact scenario in his head many, many times, but it was so much worse in reality. How much did she know? It didn’t matter. Enough. Too much. Feeling like he’d been dipped in lead, he managed to nod again. It almost took more effort than he had in him to raise his head.

“Dismissed.”

To the day he died, Harris would never know how he managed to nod again, stand, and leave her office, but he found himself outside, blinking in the sunlight. He wasn’t much for symbolism or anything like that—that was more Jamack’s forté—but it still felt wrong. It should be grey and overcast, maybe even storming. But the world just went right on shining without him.

*

Jamack waited impatiently in the car for Harris. It was unlike him to be late, so he chuckled when he saw him. “Did you forget we had patrol?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Harris’ skin was crawling being this close to Jamack, like he was tainting Jamack’s potential just with his presence. He’d tried to get Kwat to trade shifts with him, but he hadn’t been able to find her. Still moving woodenly, he opened the door, got into the passenger seat, and faced straight ahead, hands folded in his lap. All of this seemed to be at a great distance, something he was observing rather than actively participating in.

Harris’ distant behaviour was obvious to Jamack, but he said nothing until they were some distance from the Pond. “Everything alright?” he asked.

“No. No, it’s not.” Harris’ voice sounded cold and hard. He wasn’t in control of it, but he was relieved that it sounded strong instead of the sickening weakness he actually felt. “I’m tired of this, of sneaking around with you.” That was true enough—he _was_ tired. “I’m out. For real this time. We’re through. Over.”

Jamack’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather creaked. He’d hoped this time would be different. It had been so long, it had been _years_ , they had been so _good_ together. It was like a knife in the chest, every single time. “Fuck, Harris,” he muttered. “Do we have to do this again? We were… I thought we were good.” Even as he argued, he felt his hopes sinking. Harris had never listened to him before when they were breaking up, why would he start this time?

“No. I’m serious this time. Never again.” The words seemed to echo in Harris’ skull and he fought to think past them. “This is the last time,” he added, his voice a shade softer. This was the closest he could get to admitting how he truly felt, why he was really doing this.

He’d been thinking about telling Jamack he loved him earlier in the day, before he’d been summoned. He’d been thinking about it for months— _over_ thinking it for months—and he’d come close several times, and he’d finally (mostly) decided today was the day… What a cruel joke. Pathetic. Like his life would ever go that well, that smoothly. He should have known it would explode in his face.

Jamack suddenly stiffened as a thought seemed to collide with the heartache he was feeling. “Did…” He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Fuck.” He couldn’t say it. He knew the answer. Sartori had spoken to Harris. She’d asked him to break it off, and Harris had said yes.

Harris had said yes where Jamack had refused, and that was just the way it always was with their relationship.

“Fine. We’re done.” He’d never said that before. He’d never _agreed_ that they were done forever, he had always held out hope for a next time. He’d never wanted to be _done_ , but now… Fuck. He had spent some of his happiest times with Harris. _All_ of them, really. But it hurt so much, every time, to hear Harris say it, or to know he was purposefully drifting away and avoiding him. Maybe this was as much as he could take.

It was over.


End file.
